


heel, toe, do-si-do (come on baby let's go)

by gezurak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Oh My God, Pack Dynamics, line dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gezurak/pseuds/gezurak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when a flat tire strands the pack on the side of the road at midnight, they seek refuge in a country bar. </p>
<p>or, the one where stiles teaches everyone how to line dance.</p>
<p>(post s3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	heel, toe, do-si-do (come on baby let's go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azukre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azukre/gifts).



> 'go line-dancing' is on my friend's bucket list and as she's from a country where it doesn't exist, we went when she visited. we mostly people watched, making up careers and lives for everyone. after I declared that one of the men had to be a sheriff, she started laughing and said, "imagine if sheriff Stilinski was into line dancing. imagine if he TAUGHT STILES." 
> 
> so here we are. 
> 
> enjoy x

Today has been a good day, Derek decides as he eases the van onto the exit ramp to begin the last leg of a long journey home.

In the passenger seat, Stiles snuffles in his sleep and wraps his arms more tightly around the bright orange plush snail clutched in them. His mouth is hanging open, mirror image of Scott in the row of seats behind them. The other boy has his head against the cool glass of the window with Allison leaning into his shoulder, snoring lightly. Even further behind, the rest of his pack are in various positions of sleep, Isaac and Lydia curled together in the third row, and Erica and Boyd sprawled out in the fourth, no longer fighting for space as they doze.

His pack.

They've been through hell and back this year with all the mess of the alpha pack; they more than deserved the day of fun at Great America now that it's finally, finally over. The day has been long though, full of rides and food and carnival games, culminating in the three hour drive home he gets to spend in wondrous quiet as they'd all conked out soon after hitting the highway.

The road is dark and empty at nearly midnight, an occasional vehicle passing opposite them. He likes his pack quite a bit, loves Stiles even, but the peace of the silent van and empty road is welcome. The only time he ever gets to experience it is when they're all asleep. Other wise the noise doesn't stop between the talking and the singing and the bickering and the little scuffles he always finds them getting into.

Derek sighs and leans back in his seat a little, going off high alert now that they're only forty-five minutes from home.

He hears the blow out before he feels it, the loud pop of exploding rubber as the tire comes apart from the wheel. The front right of the van drops, combination of sound and movement jostling the others awake.

"Wa's happen?" Stiles mumbles in a groggy panic, sitting up straighter and gripping his snail to his chest. "Who was shot?"

"Nobody was shot, idiot. We blew a tire," Isaac snaps as he stretches his arms above his head and yawns widely.

"Isaac!"

Erica tiredly swats at his arm with a bit of a scowl at the insult.

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls the van off into the grass at the side of the road. The earth is damp when he gets out of the vehicle, grass giving away slightly beneath his feet. The lack of a paved shoulder is going to make changing the flat a right pain in the ass and he hopes the jack stays stable enough on the not so solid ground. He walks round to the other side of the van and slides the door open.

"Alright, everyone out."

Erica blinks at him blearily from the back row of seats.

"But, why?"

"Because if another car doesn't see us in the dark and hits the van, we humans could get hurt," Lydia returns with a sniff as she gracefully hops down from the van and onto the grass.

"Exactly," Derek says, trying to hold onto some shred of his authority. It's always difficult when Lydia is around.

He pulls the passenger door open now and offers a hand to Stiles. The boy takes it and climbs down, still holding the snail Derek had won him in his other hand. He wobbles on his feet, leaning into Derek when he staggers forward. He's like a kitten when he's half awake, all uncertainty and unsteadiness. In another moment he's fully awake, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and tossing the snail back onto his seat. He follows Derek to where Boyd and Scott are already opening the back doors of the van to retrieve the jack and spare tire. Boyd hands the rest of their prizes and souviners, the girls' bags with extra clothes, out to Scott before he lifts the back mat.

Derek curses under his breath when he sees the empty compartment, indent in the black metal where the spare tire should be.

"What?" Allison asks where she's huddled with Lydia and Erica for warmth in the cool night air.

"No spare," Scott replies, frowning down at the space before looking at Derek. "Did they not check it before you rented this thing?"

"Paperwork said they did," Derek growls.

He takes his cell phone from his pocket to search for the number of a towing company, but he barely has the mobile browser open before Stiles is rattling off a number on his left.

"Do you seriously have the number of a towing company memorised?"

Stiles gives Derek a dark, level look.

"Do you know how many times my baby has been destroyed by some sort of shenanigans related to you?"

Derek scowls as he thinks back on the old blue Jeep and the most recent incident involving it. A member of the alpha pack had sabotaged the brakes, causing it to crash into a tree and nearly kill Stiles in the process.

"Point made," he concedes, unable to control the pained note that creeps into his voice when he remembers Stiles battered and in a hospital bed. "What's the number again?"

Stiles repeats the number and settles an apologetic hand on Derek's arm, not having meant it to sound the way it did.

The woman who answers the phone responds to the truck request with an apology. There's been a multi-vehicle accident in a town near Beacon Hills and all of their trucks are occupied at the moment.

"It shouldn't be more than two hours until one reaches you," she says after she takes down their location and other information.

Derek sighs a 'thanks' and he ends the call.

"When will they be here?" Boyd asks, running his hands up and down Erica's arms to keep her warm.

"At least two hours."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Erica swears. "It's midnight, and we're stranded on the side of the road nearly an hour from home!"

"Can't we just wait in the van, please?" Scott asks hopefully with a whine. "There's like, no cars out here."

"I'm not taking that chance," Derek tells him and folds his arms across his chest.

"Says the one wearing a leather jacket," Allison scoffs and presses into Scott's side.

"There's a bar back there."

Everyone turns to look where Stiles is pointing. In the direction from which they came, they can see the neon of a giant cowboy boot flashing in the darkness. It can't be more than a mile back, a quick walk.

Erica is the first to dive back into the van for her purse, quickly followed by Lydia as the others collect their coats and Derek retrieves a flash light from the glove compartment.

It takes fifteen minutes for them to amble back to the bar in near silence, huddled into their jackets, hands stuffed into their pockets. There's a dull thud of music coming from the bar and when Boyd opens the door the twang of banjo and mabndolin hit them with full force.

"Oh my god what is this," Lydia mutters.

"It's a country bar," Stiles informs her with a touch of annoyance at the way she says it.

"IDs?" the bouncer in the cowboy hat asks gruffly.

Derek hadn't considered them being asked for ID, but it's a bar. Of course they would be, and he's the only one older than twenty-one.

"Uhm, well. We got a flat a bit up the road and it's too cold to wait outside and could we just wait here? Please?"

The bouncer is silent for a long moment before nodding once.

"Stay on the restaurant side," he says gruffly. "If I see a single one of you near the bar, you're all out, got it?"

"Yes, sir," they chorus and Scott chokes back a laugh.

Even if they were old enough to drink, the alcohol wouldn't affect the wolves anyway.

Erica bounds past him, out of the bright foyer and into the dim main area of the bar and restaurant, smoke swirling in the lights from the dance floor. Allison eyes the dancing couples with an amused look as she follows her to an empty booth in the corner. Everyone around them is wearing some sort of western wear, hates, boots, collared embellished shirts, making them stick out like the city kids they are.

Derek ignores the looks they're getting as he settles into the end of the booth next to Boyd. He turns to ask Stiles if he wants anything to eat as the others pick up their menus, but Stiles isn't there.

"Where'd Stiles go?" he muses aloud, looking over his shoulder towards the door.

"Dunno," Scott responds at the same time Isaac says, "Oh dear god," and points in the general direction of the dance floor.

In the middle of the front line of dancers is Stiles, thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his skinny jeans as he follows every step the group is making with swift precision. He's grinning, brow furrowed slightly in concentration when he falls slightly out of time with the beat in 'Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy).'

He quickly recovers as the group spins together, moving into a grapevine across the dance floor.

Derek stares, wide eyes following Stiles' every step.

"Did you know he could do that?" Scott asks him from across the table.

"Me? We've only been dating a few months! You've been his best friend since kindergarten and you didn't know he could do that?"

"Everyone has secrets," Lydia comments with a shrug and turns back to her menu.

"Come on," Allison says and moves to push Scott out of the booth so she can get up. "That looks like fun. Let's see if he'll teach us."

"No. No way," Scott argues and plants his feet on the floor so she can't push him any further. "I am not doing that."

"Please? You know I love it when you dance."

Allison sticks out her lower lip in a pout and looks up at him from under long lashes.

Scott stares for a second before leaping to his feet and grabbing her hand. She cackles as he pulls her along.

The rest of the group, minus Lydia, watches as the two join Stiles and attempt to follow the dance.

They fail miserably through the last minute of the song, Stiles laughing when Scott gets tripped up by a grapevine and then claps off the beat.

"This is harder than it looks, don't laugh," he huffs in annoyance as the crowd claps the completion of the song.

Stiles leaves them to fumble through as the next song strikes up, heading off the dance floor to find Derek.

"Let me teach you how to do it," he says when he reaches him, hand on his shoulder.

His cheeks are flushed pink, eyes sparkling with excitement, and Derek can't say no to him. He never can.

Derek allows Stiles to take his hand and lead him to the dance floor next to where Scott and Allison have devolved into giggles at their inability to follow the proper dance figures.

He's going to make a fool of himself, he knows it, but Stiles is beside him nudging him along.

"Where did you learn how to do this?" Derek asks and slowly spins so he's facing the other direction.

Stiles flushes darker in embarrassment.

"My dad, actually," he responds. "He used to line dance when he was a kid and it was really popular, so he taught me when I was little. Haven't done this in ages though."

"Could've fooled me," Derek mumbles as he misses a step and knocks into Allison on his other side.

Stiles chuckles and winks, resting a hand on his arm to guide him into the next step with ease.

Derek casts a wary look around the dance floor.

"And how do you even know which steps to do?!"

Stiles shrugs.

"Usually different songs have a different series of steps, but there are some generic line dances you can apply to whatever song, depending what the beat is," he explains over the music. "And if you don't know the specific sequences but know the steps, you can generally figure it out pretty quick as it's repetitive. I actually don't know this one."

Derek stares at him again. He doesn't know the dance, yet he's executing it almost flawlessly beside him. Typical Stiles, good at everything he does.

The next song they're joined by the others, Isaac all but forcing Lydia into the crowd. The strawberry blonde glares but follows Stiles' instructions.

By the time Derek's phone rings an hour later, the tow truck driver asking where they are because he's at the van and they're not, no one wants to leave. He has to stuff them into their coats and pull them out the door, promising they'll do this again some time. The dancing part, not the getting stranded with a flat tire part.

Stiles leans into his side on the walk back to the van and yeah, it really has been a good day.


End file.
